


It Takes Two

by 4TSloid



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Doppelganger, M/M, Maverick AU, mentions of various sexual activities but they don't actually do it, you're going to have to physically stop me from making content for this ship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-28 03:38:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20419286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/4TSloid/pseuds/4TSloid
Summary: “I’m not surprised this is happening. There’s probably blueprints of all my bodies floating around PMC intel files. On top of that, somebody must have recorded encounters with me, been able to copy my fighting style, the way I talk. It wouldn’t take a genius to make a half-decent copy of me somewhere along the line. But this,” gestures to Raiden. “Someone must have been trying to screw this one up. You’re not even good enough to be my fake.”Sam and Raiden stumble across a perfect copy of Raiden during a tandem mission.





	It Takes Two

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文-普通话 國語 available: [需要两个](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22904992) by [AOBlaz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AOBlaz/pseuds/AOBlaz)

As the last body hits the floor, Sam watches Jack reappear from the shadows. There’s a few flecks of blood on his armour, a few globs of electrolytes on his hands. The abandoned shipping-receiving terminal they’d been assigned to clear out falls eerily silent. “That was easy,” Jack says. “Too easy.” During briefing, Sam does recall Courtney telling the two of them about a single, potent, cyborg threat, one Maverick had very little intel on other than the fact that it existed. And Sam can tell that none of the personnel he and Jack just dispatched qualified as ‘potent’.

Jack’s stepping closer; from the look in his eyes, Sam can tell he’s going to keep going till he’s walked his way into his arms. Sam gives Murasama a quick wipe between his fingers, sheathes her, and meets Jack halfway. Tries to wipe away blood spatters on his face with a clean finger, but he shrugs Sam away.

“You smell different.”

“I’m using unscented moisturizer now,” Jack explains. “Getting allergic reactions to the smelly stuff.”

“I see,” Sam says. “Well, then, _ belo _, do you think we should go around the block one more time before Doktor picks us up?”

“Already been around. Not a soul.”

A mischievous look spreads across Sam’s face. “I guess that leaves a few moments to ourselves.” His hands drift to Jack’s waist, lower to his hips, around to cup his ass. “Shall we--?”

“What the hell?” A familiar voice echoes from one of the terminals further down. Sam and Jack turn to look at the interruption-- a figure in dark armour with platinum blond hair stares on in disbelief. “Who the hell are you?” Another cyborg, who looks and sounds identical to Jack (at least from afar) hollers. “Get your hands off him!” The second Raiden hurls himself towards the first, drawing his sword (which was also the same model as Sam had seen Raiden use before this mission).

The first Raiden turns to Sam for a moment. “Just for the record,” he says. “I’ll have you know that I’m the real deal.” He draws his blade as well, and the two Raidens meet in a clash of flying sparks and fists and feet and claws and swords. Sam’s mind freezes for a second at the sheer absurdity of it all, but he knows he has to intervene before the wrong Raiden gets hurt.

“Both of you,” Sam starts. The two Raidens’ eyes flick to him for a brief instant before returning to their spat. “I want to resolve this with as little bloodshed as possible today. If you would…” His sentence trails off. Sam knows that there isn’t much he can do to stop the Jack he knows from going balls-to-the-wall in a tense fight, even if it was just a sparring match, so he’s probably wasting his breath. The two Raidens are evenly matched, parrying each others’ blows like clockwork. Sam takes a deep breath, picks a Raiden, and with a running start, tackles him to the ground. He gets hit with half a slice from the other one’s sword, who mercifully pulls away.

He looks at the Raiden he’s pinning to the ground, then the Raiden who’s standing frozen overtop him. “Enough,” Sam gasps. “I need to find out which one of you is the real thing. So we are going to play a little game.”

“Let me guess,” the Raiden beneath him, who Sam decides to refer to as Jack in his mind for simplicity’s sake, says. “Twenty questions?”

“You might as well give up right now, whoever you are,” Raiden, the one standing over the two of them, that is, threatens. “Just tell us who or what you really are. You’re not fooling anyone.”

“You first,” spits Jack.

Sam shushes them. “You’re both beautiful,” he says. “First question,” he turns to Jack. “What’s the name of my sword here?” Pats Murasama’s handle on his hip.

“Murasama,” Jack replies.

“That was an easy one.”

“I have a question for you, actually. Are you gonna let me stand up now?”

Sam glances back at Raiden, who’s bristling away. “Now, now. Which one of you said they were down to fool around before we were so rudely interrupted?”

“That would be me,” Jack says.

Raiden grimaces. “I don’t care how horny you are, Rodrigues,” he says. “I’m not gonna let you go down on that faker. Especially not here and now.”

The thought arouses Sam more than he would like to admit-- two of Jack, or Raiden, in bed with him. But alas, they would probably spend more time arguing with each other than getting each other off. And two nearly-metal bodies plus one of mostly flesh and blood would break any bed halfway through foreplay. “Next question,” Sam announces, looking back up at Raiden as he helps Jack to his feet. Raiden has his eyes locked on Sam and Jack’s linked hands as they rise. The longer those hands linger, the tighter Raiden grips the handle of his sword. “Is for you, _ meu amor _ . What’s our address? And I say _ our _ because we are-- hm, how should I put this--” spares Jack a glance. “Partners. Boyfriends. Which, if you were the real Raiden, you would obviously know.”

“Shut up.”

“Hmm, I’m getting suspicious of you now.” Sam scratches his chin.

“Come on, Sam. I thought you’d know better.”

“What’s our address, _ bonito _?”

“Do we really want to be discussing that in front of the enemy?” _In case he wants to join us for a night_, Sam almost says.

“He’s dancing around it,” Jack hisses, close to Sam’s ear. “End him.”

“Fuck it, fine,” Raiden says. “Eighty-three-eighteen B west Asterlook Street. There.” Looks back at Jack. “You’re gonna be dead by the end of this anyways.”

“Y’know what?” Jack asks. “I’m not surprised this is happening. There’s probably blueprints of all my bodies floating around PMC intel files. On top of that, somebody must have recorded encounters with me, been able to copy my fighting style, the way I talk. It wouldn’t take a genius to make a half-decent copy of me somewhere along the line. But this,” gestures to Raiden. “Someone must have been _ trying _to screw this one up. You’re not even good enough to be my fake.”

“What the fuck?” Raiden lunges at Jack, mere inches away from where Sam stands. Starts flinging uppercut after uppercut at Jack, but Jack dodges all of them. “What do you think you’re saying? Stop talking about me like you know me! You don’t know shit!” Sam waits for an opening and hauls Raiden back by the waist this time, putting some distance between him and Jack. “Next question,” Sam calls to Jack, as Raiden flails.

“Ask me anything. There’s nothing this phony knows that I already don’t.”

A bluff, or genuine confidence? “Your old friend, Wolfy. Blade Wolf. What was he known as before you called him that?”

“LQ-eighty-four-i,” Jack responds, without missing a beat. “And get your hands off him. I don’t want you touching anybody else like that.”

“Getting possessive, are we?” Sam’s arm snakes a little further around Raiden’s waist. _ Asshole _ , he hears Raiden murmur under his breath. “Well, if you say you’re Raiden, and he also says he’s Raiden, how can we be so sure? Unless you _ both _ want to go home with me?”

Both Jack and Raiden tense. “Not with that sorry excuse,” Jack answers, at the same time Raiden scowls, “Get your head out of the gutter for one _ goddamn _ second.”

Sam laughs, and turns so that his chest is pressed against Raiden’s. “I have been told by, erm, one of you, that I’m rather skilled in the sheets, and I certainly don’t mind spreading the love a little bit. How’s about the next question, pretty boy?” Gives Raiden a wink.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to accomplish,” Raiden mutters. “Aside from making me want to rip my hair out, followed by your trachea and then that phony’s spine.”

Something about getting two Raidens, or two Jacks all riled up at him is too entertaining for Sam to pass up. He smirks. “There’s the Jack I know.”

“Which is funny, because the Jack you know is standing right here,” Jack interrupts, stepping closer to the two of them. “So hurry up, before you ride home with the wrong one of us.”

“And it wouldn’t do to have you rip your own hair out. It’s the perfect frame for your pretty face.”

“Just give me the next question,” Raiden says, but Sam’s too far gone. He’s absorbed in taking in every detail of Raiden’s face. Seriously? Now? “... Moron.”

Sam’s eyes flick to Jack now. “_ Menino bonito. _Come over here.”

“I’m already here,” Raiden says.

“He’s talking to me.” Jack steps right next to him, the two standing near shoulder-to-shoulder, the exact same height and width. Sam scours Jack’s face now, and it’s indeed identical to Raiden’s-- everything down to the details of his mechanical jaw, the little pale freckle hidden away near his left temple, the acne scars on the side of his nose normally obscured by his eyepatch. 

Sam’s bewildered. “Now, where was I?”

“You were going to ask me the next question,” Raiden says.

“Ah, _ sim _.” Sam’s gaze darts between the two once again. “The name of Sundowner’s machetes?”

“Bloodlust.”

“You’re giving him all the easy questions,” Jack barks. “You _ know _ he’s the fake!”

“You want an easy question, then?” Sam asks.

“You already gave him an easy question,” Raiden says. “You asked him the name of your sword.”

Sam ignores Raiden for the time being. “What’s eight times four?”

Jack scratches his head. “I didn’t know this was a math quiz. Thirty-two.”

Sam turns back to Raiden. “What’s seven times three?”

“Twenty-seven,” Raiden blurts. “No, fuck, it isn’t.” He starts counting his fingers, muttering numbers under his breath. Sam releases him and puts a finger on the trigger of his sheath. “Don’t kill me, I swear--”

Raiden has a split second to roll out of the way of Murasama, blood red blade screaming right past him and straight into an unsuspecting Jack. It cuts deep into his armour, drawing watery blue fluid instead of blood. Jack tries to bring up his sword to counter, but Sam keeps up the pressure till he cracks-- not even this fake will get the room or time to do any ridiculous sword-breakdancing he’s known to love from the real Raiden even with all the research or practice in the world. 

“You’ve got this whole thing wrong,” Jack squeaks out, in between slashes.

“Who are you?” Sam asks, cleaving through Jack’s wrist through a gap in his gauntlets he’d exploited in the past in spars with Raiden. The blue liquid spurts out uncontrollably, the loose hand and sword clattering to the ground. Sam slams Jack against the nearest wall.

“What are you doing?” Jack’s getting desperate.

“Oh, _ bonito _.” Sam can sense Raiden, the real Raiden not far behind him. “Save the waterworks. It’s not like you to do that.”

“Okay, then,” Jack sputters. “I’m not him. I’m not Raiden.”

“Like hell you aren’t,” Raiden chimes. “And Sam, I thought _ I _ was the only one you called _ menino bonito _?”

Sam turns to address Raiden. “Well, now that we know who is who, I hope you will let this one slide.” But he knows the real Raiden never ‘lets anything slide’ and Sam will probably be hearing about this incident for the next while. He feels something claw at the armour on his throat while his attention is divested. Sam drops Murasama and socks Jack’s elbow until he lets go, wrangling him to the floor with both hands free now, making sure to leave an opening for Raiden to go for the kill. Raiden sees it, draws his sword and stabs hard down through Jack’s throat. The blue fluid spurts everywhere, all over Sam’s arms and chest. Eventually, the doppelganger’s spasms cease.

“Shoot,” Raiden says. “We could’ve asked him why he came here.”

“So another round of twenty questions, ehn?”

“Something like that. But that’s spilled milk. I’ll take our friend back to HQ, actually. Doktor will have a ball dissecting him.”

Sam exhales through his nose in sort of a half-laugh. “Jokes on him for thinking he had me fooled for a single second.”

“So you knew?” Raiden stiffens. “For how long?”

“From the moment he drew his sword.”

“And you drew out that stupid game of twenty questions for how long?” Raiden’s baring teeth now. Sam just laughs. “You could’ve jumped in and helped me fight him, you insufferable manchild. You just love pushing my buttons. You’re lucky both of us didn’t try to gut you at once.”

“Think about it like this, _ lindo _,” Sam says, dragging his hand down Raiden’s arm. “We know two things for sure after that incident. One: you’re one-of-a-kind. I’ve fought with and against you enough times to know that your fighting style was forged from your unique experiences and is impossible to truly replicate. And two, I know you better than anybody else.”

“You sound awfully sure of yourself.”

“And besides,” Sam adds, his hand reaching Raiden’s. He takes it and kisses the back of it, inspecting the metal, clawed fingers hooked over his own. “I know you couldn’t stand the thought of me giving my attention to anyone else but you. Having me so close, yet so far away, with the right person but the wrong… body--”

“Don’t flatter yourself. You’re just talking out your ass now, so do me a favour and shut up for a second.”

Sam lets out a last chortle and takes one last scan of the terminal, taking note of the blue blood on the floor. “If you’re done with me, now, I suppose now’s the time to secure an LZ.”

“Not yet.” Raiden’s nostrils flare, and he steps up to Sam with no intention of stopping till he was right against Sam’s chest. Drags his fingers down the armour, wiping and flicking off the blue fluid from earlier in disgust. “I’m going to have you right here and right now first. Seeing your paws all over that faker just-- just ...”

Raiden growls, frustrated, and kisses Sam hard, metal teeth bashing into his bottom lip. When they part, Sam tastes a little blood in his mouth. As Raiden reaches to undo the clasps on Sam’s codpiece, he smirks. “Who are you and what did you do with Jack?”

**Author's Note:**

> ah yes my favourite Edgy Bitch and Depressed Thot. as a side note i am planning a big huge samuraiden centric multichapter fiction. i will keep this ship on life support until we get mgr2 if you let me.
> 
> my tumblr is @4tsloid  
(tips fedora) m'nino bonito


End file.
